Hidden Meanings
by iceprincessinfinity
Summary: Slash, Kyle/Cartman. Cartman has gone through a rough time and is finally ready to be himself again. Kyle wonders what's been wrong with him for the past year.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I could never think up South Park all by myself…but I didn't even think it up with help. Too bad.

**Author's Note:** I've come to the conclusion that there aren't enough Kyle/Cartman stories on this site, so I'm making my own. I'll get back to working on my other story now, though! I'm really sorry about the lack of update on that! Anyway, I thought this would be kind of fun to do. This chapter is just the prologue, showing the personalities of the characters and, of course, the new Eric Cartman. Enjoy!

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**Kyle's POV**

It's Monday morning, and I'm tempting the fates by walking to the bus stop in the frigid air. I think I may be forgetting to breathe, but I really can't tell. It's too damn cold to be sure of anything right now. "Hey, Kyle," my friend Stan says to me with a smile when I look at him. Since I manage to reply, I think it's a safe assumption that I'm alive. Who knew it could get this cold during the winter, even in South Park? Stan is standing there with his arms crossed and he's shivering. He doesn't look to be much in the mood for talking. I let my eyes glance over first to Kenny, wearing his orange parka. The temperature doesn't seem to be bothering him too much, but he has the strings on his hood drawn tight to ward off the chill. He doesn't wear the parka too often now, but this is probably a good time to be wearing it. Now I'm looking at Cartman. I think this is one of the rare days where I actually wish I was him. He must be freezing, he's wearing his normal lightweight jacket and he's holding his hat at his side. All that body fat must come in good for something, I guess. Maybe he's not really cold at all. I kind of want to say something to him, but I notice his eyes are closed and his lips are moving silently again. I think it's become a sort of morning ritual for him, just as it's becoming a ritual for me to watch him. It's just the way that nothing ever seems to faze him. When we entered high school, it was suddenly as if he had nothing left to live for. To most people, he seemed to be the same person, if not one who was a bit nicer, but to his close friends – that is to say, me, Stan, and Kenny – it was obvious that something was gone from his life. We knew he would never confide in us, but we could see it all the same.

I walk over to stand right in front of him. His sorrow and anger are both so intense right now that I can feel it as I look at him. It neither warns me away nor invites me forward, just makes me stop in my tracks to study him. Had he gotten sleep the previous night, or did he always look like that now? I have been becoming increasingly unobservant over the years, and at times I feel like I don't even know my own friends anymore. Cartman's eyes look very hollow to me. His whole face just seems devoid of life, somehow. His lips are still moving, in time to the whistling wind now. It ruffled his hair around his head, but he still didn't open his eyes. To be honest, it looks like he's offering up a part of himself to the Earth, or something creepy like that. I failed to notice earlier that he as one hand up to his throat…not strangling himself, more like clutching something at the base of his throat. Is he wearing a necklace? That thought being too much to bear, I laugh quietly. As I recover, though, I face Cartman's gaze. I think that scares me more than anything. His eyes show recognition, but little else. The Cartman I know would say "What are you laughing about, you fucking Jew?" but this Cartman is just looking at me quietly and thoughtfully. I'm happy when the bus comes. This cold air is making me think way more than a normal person should at this hour of the morning.

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**Cartman's POV**

I can see the bus now, it's coming to a stop right in front of us. I take the time to tear my eyes away from Kyle – almost a painful act, but I've trained myself to not feel pain anymore. I take my normal seat near the front of the bus. The further away I am from my friends, the better I am. I don't want to hear any more questions about why I've been acting so oddly, and I don't want any questions about what I was doing outside. I was the first one to show up there, I didn't even notice when the others arrived. When did they arrive anyway? My hand is still tightly clenched in a fist. I open it to reveal the cuts, first from my fingernails and then from my necklace. I almost smiled at the thought of the great Eric Cartman wearing jewelry. Bad, bad! I can't laugh, I can't smile! If I want to not feel pain I can't allow myself to feel anything else, either. Sometimes I really wonder if this will work. After all, not showing emotion on the outside doesn't mean it's not on the inside. The thought of school bores me, and the thought of my friends makes me happy. The necklace…the necklace is linked to pain. What it stands for isn't painful, exactly, it just reminds me of something that causes me the greatest happiness and the greatest sorrow I have ever felt in my life.

Why is the bus stopping? We aren't here, are we? I spy the school through the thickly falling snow, though. As I step outside I put my hat back on. I love the snow. It allows me to hide my emotions from everyone so well. I wipe the happy expression from my face as everyone else steps out behind me. The snow might hide my emotions, but not if I don't do my part. "Hiya, Eric!" a voice calls to me as I walk in the general direction of the school. "Hello, Butters," I say to him in a soft monotone. I know it's him. Ever since Jimmy got sent to a different school, Butters is the only person of my own age to refer to me as "Eric". I know the monotone is useless. It's just a ploy to fool the other students. Butters is surprisingly perceptive, I doubt I could hide anything from him even if I wanted to. Butters is the only reason I haven't lost myself yet. It's been a whole year since I dared to show emotion. No more evil plans which I enjoy, no more making fun of the people I care about. No more Eric Cartman. But Butters preserved me as best he could. Was it time to start acting normal again?

"Eric, isn't it time to stop acting like this?" Maybe Butters was right. What was I trying to prove to myself, anyway? That I wasn't human? "As painful as some things are to face, you can never move on with life until you feel it. It's still there, and by not letting yourself feel it it'll just be there longer. A year is a long time. Be yourself, Eric." At these words, I smiled. Butters was so nice, so innocent. It almost makes me sorry for the way I've treated him in the past. Almost, but not quite. I'm quite happy being stoic, thank you very much! Wait…that doesn't make sense. How can I be happy about…not having any emotions? If the second part of the statement was right I would feel stoic about being stoic…right? I surprise myself and start to laugh. Maybe this is making me go insane. "Come on Butters, let's go bore ourselves to death in class." I hold out my hand to him, and he blinks in surprise before taking it as we walk towards the school. Maybe in the past I would have been embarrassed to have even been seen talking to him, but not only was Eric Cartman back, he was a different and better person than before. I don't care what the other students think. I don't care if they say I'm gay now, or something. Eric Cartman is no longer ashamed to be seen with his friends.

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**Author's Note:** Big difference, huh? I'm not sure if I'll continue different POV's all throughout the story, but I probably will. It'll be more interesting, then. I hope everyone likes what I've done with Cartman's character, I know it's a bit different than what you're probably used to reading, but I kind of like writing about how he's discovering that he's a different person and that he doesn't have to be mean. I really like Cartman because he's so interesting...I just hate the way he acts, which is why I decided to change it. So hate it or love it, review please! I won't continue on with the next chapter until I get at least three reviews. That's not unreasonable...right?


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Matt and Trey still own South Park.

**Author's Note:** So here it is. I said three reviews, but I got one (thank you :) ) and this story has been added to alert lists and stuff, so I've determined I can post another chapter. The next chapter is already half-written, so there's a good chance I'll update soon.

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**Kyle's POV**

I don't know what Butters said to Cartman, but whatever it was it must have had as much impact as "I love you". Maybe it _was_ "I love you". Either way, he's looking more alive than he's looked in…well, a long time. It's kind of nice to know he's over his problems now, even if he's showing it to the whole school by acting decidedly gay. Poor Cartman. If he's not going to feel sorry for himself now, though, then I'm certainly not going to feel sorry for him. It's halfway through English and I'm still thinking about him, what am I doing? I don't care about that son of a bitch, and I probably never will. Still, it might be fun to torment him with the Butters thing. It'll give me a chance to see just how "alive" he really is.

It's almost lunch now, and I see Cartman at his locker. Should I just go up there? Nah. Let's have fun with this. I'll try a different approach. It's time to take off my hat – I shudder as my repulsive hair can now be seen. Okay, it's not as bad as it used to be – girls have even described it as "cute" – but still, curly hair? No thanks. I like Cartman's hair, I wish mine was more like it. It's so straight and it's shaggy enough to give him a distinct appearance…oh God, what am I doing? I'm thinking about him too much again! I need to stop. He takes a book out of his locker, and moves to close it. Perfect. "Hi, Eric," I say to him, while walking towards him. He looks away briefly and ignores me. "Eric, didn't you hear me? I said hi…" I know he heard me, I just don't understand why he's pretending he didn't. "Hi, Kyle," he finally says. He's still looking away from me, though. I didn't have a great plan to begin with, I thought he would question me on why I was being so nice but he didn't so now I've got nothing left to work with. "Um…I…saw you with Butters this morning." I say that pretty lamely, not that it matters. "I'm not a fag, Kyle." He looks at me now, but he's not angry…he doesn't even sound angry. I can see conflict in his eyes, and his voice sounds almost sad. Maybe he's not really better, even though I thought he was. "I didn't think you were," I reply, equally soft. "Oh. Well, okay, then. What do you want?" He shoots that out at me suddenly, starting to act mad that I even bothered him in the first place. Suddenly I'm saying words that I didn't approve myself to say! What is going on? "Cartman, I wanted to make sure you're okay, you've been acting so strangely for a long time and you looked better after Butters talked to you so I wanted to see if you were back to normal now…" Oh, I've done it for sure. He's looking at me in shock. I can't believe I'm acting like this! It's _Eric Cartman¸_ for Christ's sake! Do I really care? "Kyle, when have I ever been normal? Can you remember when I've been normal? I guess I'm back to normal…for me. But by your standards, no, I'm not normal."

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**Cartman's POV**

Kyle just asked me if I was back to normal. I didn't even know he had ever noticed I was acting weird. Sure, I've seen him watching me, but wouldn't you watch some kid that looked like he was experiencing hell on earth? I would. I am sorry I lashed out at him, though. Sure, I can adapt to having a patient, understanding, tone…but I haven't had any practice at all being nice. Why should I be nice to people when they're never nice to me? My mom never had enough time to teach me about proper behavior, either. Oh well. It's a little late to worry about it now. Wait, Kyle's walking away! Shouldn't I try to call him back? "Kyle! Would you…um…" He just turned around to look at me, now I don't know what to say. "Do you want to eat lunch with me?" He's kind of glaring at me now. "I always eat lunch with you." Oh yeah! He does, doesn't he! This isn't good, no, not good at all. "But I mean, we could walk there together." "Well, hurry up." He's waiting for me now, tapping his foot impatiently. I can see Stan behind him, but he motions for me to keep silent so I do. Why is he just standing there, isn't he going to scare Kyle or something? I really hate people. I live with them because I have to, but they don't make sense at all. I'm finally done at my locker, and walk towards Kyle, smiling briefly at Stan. That would have been fine except Kyle caught me. "What are you looking at?" he asks me. He sounds pretty grumpy, and looks over his shoulder in annoyance. It's all worth it, though, when he spots Stan and starts screaming. Oh, this is too good! He stops screaming when I start laughing uncontrollably. I'm not sure what's so surprising about someone laughing, although I haven't laughed too much recently. Maybe that's it. Am I not supposed to laugh? But I'm relieved when they start laughing too.

"Cartman, can we talk?" This time it was Stan. I always kind of enjoyed talking to Stan. I never really have to hide my emotions from him – simply because I don't have too many feelings when it comes to him. He's a nice guy, I guess he's my friend or at least we hang out together sometimes, and surprisingly enough we agree on enough things. He's also a little boring, but that's okay. "Sure," I say, catching up to him. "No, not here…outside." I raise my eyebrows at him, but I'm not complaining. The school must cut off our oxygen supply or something, it'll be nice to go out. I see Kyle out of the corner of my eye. He looks confused and a little hurt, but goes to the cafeteria to save us seats anyway. He'll get over it, eventually.

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**Kyle's POV**

I can't believe that _my_ best friend just asked to talk to the fat asshole that's always made our lives miserable – _alone__._ He could have at least mentioned something to me. But no, I guess I'm not important enough for that. Figures. Well, whatever. I see Kenny over there. He can be my new best friend. I know I'm acting childish, but come on! Stan's ditching me for _Cartman_? Get real. "Hey, Kenny." He looks up at me as I sit down. Now that he's inside, he isn't wearing his parka. "Where's Stan?" Of course that has to be the first thing he asks. "Talking to Cartman." I'm deliberately not looking at him now, it's so embarrassing. "Dude, that's fucked up." "You're telling me." "Am I your new best friend?" This catches my interest, for sure. "Depends on what the conversation is about…you're practically my best friend anyway, dude." I smile at Kenny. He really is a good friend of mine, like my second best friend. I don't want him to think I just hang out with him when I'm mad at Stan, or something. He's not a replacement – no one could ever replace Stan, anyway, although I think I'll leave that information out. He probably already knows it anyway, Kenny is really smart. "Hey, Kyle, don't look now, but Stan and Cartman are coming in here." I don't turn around, I have every intention of giving both of them the cold shoulder. "Here." He's holding his hand out to me, what the fuck? "What the hell is this, Kenny?" I whisper, although a little loudly. "Doing the same thing to them they did to you, only on a worse level! Take my hand and let's leave, they don't know I saw them yet. Oh, and laugh." 

"Laugh?" I'm raising my eyebrows suspiciously, he's going to make us look like a couple, I can feel it. Still, revenge is sweet, exactly the kind of sweet that a diabetic like me can handle. I quickly glance over my shoulder, they're talking and laughing. Well that makes me mad. It makes me really mad. Just mad enough, in fact, that I like the sound of Kenny's crazy plan. So I'm taking his hand bravely and laughing, while he smiles and pulls me into a hug before dragging me out of the cafeteria. Neither of us are looking over at Stan and Cartman, and I guess that makes sense. We slip out into the hallway, and ask if we're going any further. Kenny just grins and lets go of my hand. "Nah. We'll just wait here, they probably won't come after us." I want so badly to see their dumfounded expressions staring after us, but I have no courage to peek around the door and into the cafeteria again…I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

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**Cartman's POV**

It was amazing what I missed out on while I was living in my unemotional state. Stan had kindly filled me in on everything, up to and including a hilarious incident that involved Butters tripping, somehow spilling a bucket of water over Kyle's head in the process, and then Craig coming up from behind and thinking that Kyle was a girl. As a matter of fact, I'm still laughing about it now, as we're walking into the cafeteria. I'm not preoccupied enough to miss Kyle and Kenny walking out, hand in hand – I almost wish I was. "Cartman?" Stan has apparently noticed that I stopped, frozen in time. "This…was a mistake," I tell him. It was wrong of me to feel again, because this pain…this pain is like no other! That could have been me…but it's not me, and it never will be. "Cartman!" Stan is probably going to scold me now. He always has some speech, he did even when we were kids. "You can't do this! Remember what Butters told you?" But Stan doesn't know everything…if he knew exactly what caused me pain, and exactly what I was hiding from, maybe he wouldn't be trying to help me. Or if he was, he would at least understand. I'm moving, now, heading towards the table that Kyle had just left. "I remember." All that training wouldn't go to waste, I was sure of it. "So stop it! You were fine a minute ago!" Did Stan even see them? "Oh, hey! Kyle, I thought you were going right to the cafeteria?" They must be back, and Stan's comment answered my unspoken question. I look up at them with rather dead eyes. At least they're not holding hands anymore, even though they are looking at each other. I can see Kyle pausing, a little disappointed. "Damnit!" he screams. "Kenny, it didn't work!" What? What didn't work? Could they possibly…have been faking? As Stan asked them what I was wondering, I decided to listen for the answer while pretending to be interested in my lunch. "Of course we were!" with mock sarcasm, he turns to Kenny and says "I'm so sorry, but we never would have worked out." Kenny's only response was to laugh. "Kyle, my love, no!" he said, exaggerating, and the three of them almost fell off the bench from laughing so hard. I refrain from the instinct to roll my eyes; I'm still trying to process what I just heard. I start laughing with them. "Kyle, you accuse me of being a fag and then run off with Kenny? Loser Jewboy." Now I do roll my eyes. But I feel bad about the hurt look on his face, so I smile at him. He looks shocked. Did I ever smile at him with sincerity before? No, I guess I haven't. Oops.

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**Kyle's POV**

I must be dreaming. Cartman just smiled at me? Does this mean he doesn't think I'm a stupid Jew? I'm not sure which Cartman I like better: almost-dead-Cartman, or oddly-nice-Cartman. I'm not sure I like either one. Of course, I didn't like super-mean-Cartman either, so does it really matter? I think I like almost-dead-Cartman best. He never made fun of me…in fact, he hardly ever said anything at all. And he was kind of fascinating. I wonder if he's still wearing the necklace from earlier? I try to lean over so I can see it around his neck, but I think he misinterpreted my actions because he just told me I couldn't have his pudding cup. I don't want his food, and especially not a pudding cup! Doesn't he know anything? But all I do is look at him, and say "Fine. Be greedy and eat it yourself." He doesn't have to know I was trying to see his necklace. I bet he would deny that he wears one anyway…I wouldn't consider jewelry to be very manly at all.

"Kyle?" And that was Stan, the previous traitor who is now my best friend again. "Yes?" "You just put your elbow in your food." I look down, and sure enough, I have. Stan is trying to hold in his laughter and is failing miserably, Kenny is looking sympathetic but is still laughing, and Cartman is laughing the hardest of all, pointing at me and spraying bits of half-chewed food all over our faces. Gross. I've now decided if I'm going to blame anyone for this misfortune, it's the fat fuck who's hitting me in the face with soggy pizza. "This is all your fault, Cartman!" And to believe I was actually being nice to him a little earlier! "How is this my fault, Kyle?" he has such practiced patience in his voice, and once again it looks like he's hiding something. "It…it just is!" But I don't have to deal with him anymore. Lunch is over, and I'm taking Stan and Kenny with me and we can all go to our next class together.

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**Author's Note: **I kind of like how this story is turning out. It's interesting, and it's giving away a few clues but not too many yet…there will be a lot more clues in the next chapter. Oh, the next chapter also might be disturbing to a few of you…just an advance warning, I'll explain in the beginning author's note.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **South Park isn't mine.

**Claimer: **There are four lines of a poem after Eric's journal entry. It's the ending of an actual poem that I wrote a year ago. If you want to read the rest of it, I'll send it to you, but please don't use it in anything without consulting me first. My poetry is very dear to me.

**Author's Note:** You'll notice the rating has been changed to M…this is because of events in this chapter. If self-harm bothers you, don't read this chapter. He's not suicidal, though…that may be even more disturbing to a few of you. If you find the practice of witchcraft or the belief in spiritual things to be disturbing, you also should not read this chapter.

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**Cartman's POV**

I can't believe I actually expected much to happen at school today. I guess I thought everything would just go back to the way it was before, but everything changed and I was left out of it. I might be different, but I'm still the same. I think I'll always be the same, no matter what I try and do. Like today, with Kyle. We were getting along fairly well, and then I had to laugh at him and make him all angry at me. "Hello, poopsikins, how was school?" Mom hadn't changed a bit, but I guess I couldn't blame her because my attitude towards her was about the same as always. "What do you think? I'm going downstairs to watch TV." I never really spend much time in my room, except at night. Normally I'm in the basement. I just feel so much safer underground, for some reason. I'm not going to watch TV, though. Why bother with such a trivial thing as television? No, it's time to write some more poetic crap in my diary. Let's get it out of my system, just for right now.

_Today was destined to be a day of thought. As I walked to the bus stop, I could feel how the world had shifted in time; how it was then and how it is now. I knew change was in the air today. Change is a tricky thing. If you change with the world, you may lose yourself. If you don't change with the world, you may wish you had lost yourself. Or sometimes, it isn't you that you lose. But in the big picture, your losses don't really matter. Are you going to look back thirty years from now and call yourself a loser for your previous losses? Probably not. In thirty years from now I'll probably look at this book and scold myself for wasting pages on this. But this is what's important to me right now. Today, I chanted my poem. I don't know when I started believing in all this spiritual mumbo-jumbo, it doesn't even follow a pattern. But it's an addiction; an addiction to cover up my addiction. And he saw me doing this most sacred of acts. But I didn't care, didn't acknowledge his presence…sometimes I wonder if it is actually more painful to hide my feelings than to just let myself feel the pain._

I like keeping a journal. It allows me to keep track of thoughts I would never tell anyone. It also helps me to keep track of my "spells". I know that witchcraft doesn't really work, but ever since last year my true addiction has led me to desperate measures…up to and including so called black magic. I pulled my hand away from my side and studied it…the cuts I've received make me shiver, so I flip my hand over. I know in a few minutes I'll have a cut there too. I'm taking out a piece of paper now, this is the seventh day of the spell and this is how to complete it. I hit my hand a few times, to numb it. No matter what I do, though, this is going to hurt. Taking off the necklace, I allow pain to flow through me. Emotional pain always blocks out physical pain, I've learned. I've learned it the hard way, too. Finding the sharpest edge, I dig the necklace into my skin, drawing blood. My hand is bleeding freely now, but I make no attempt to stop it.

_Face the window  
__One last time.  
__Draw the knife;  
__Say goodbye._

Four simple lines, written in my own blood. To this day, I can't answer why I've turned to this. It doesn't help, it doesn't block pain at all. But it's become my addiction, it calls to me like marijuana calls to some people. I don't want to do this. I scream inside my head every time I let myself do this and let myself lie about it. I could tell the truth, I could get help for it now, and I wouldn't have to go through this again…I wouldn't have to deal with the pain of hiding my secret away every day. But I know there's only one person I would ever admit this too, and that is the one person that would probably never care.

I trace the edge of the Star of David necklace. I should probably wash it off, after all the edge is bloody now. I'm not bothering to clean my hand up, either. It doesn't hurt, and it's not bleeding very badly at all. I wonder why everyone complains about cuts on their hands…they don't hurt as much as oh, say, your wrist? I'll never understand suicidal people. But that's okay, because I don't think the suicidal people will ever understand me. After all, they self-harm to die, and I self-harm to live. We're completely different. I think I'm done here. I'm taking my note now and leaving the house. What has to be done next shouldn't be done inside one's home.

I feel Pagan, now. I always was very intolerant of religion, but now I'm just being hypocritical when I say something mean about what others believe. After all, I now believe in one of the stupidest things to have ever been invented, and I was perfectly fine with it. I climbed to the mountains behind Kyle's house, that way I can look at it while I release my spirit to the wind. I prepared for it this morning…I branched myself out until my soul became one with the elements, and determined that on this seventh day, I would release my wish and will to the Earth and let the outcome be decided by fate. And that is exactly what I plan to do now.

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**Kyle's POV**

I don't think Cartman noticed I can see him out my window. I hope he doesn't notice, either. I get the feeling this is something he wouldn't want me to see…although, why is he standing near my house, then? Uh oh, he's pulling out a match, does he smoke or something? I never thought he was on drugs, but if he was that would sure explain a lot. Hey, what's he doing now? He's lighting paper on fire? Why? Oh no, not again. He's holding the burning paper out in front of him, and is clutching that necklace again and now is chanting…he looks like he's reading the paper, though, which doesn't make any sense. If what's on the paper is so important, why is he burning it? It's then that I notice his hand. What the hell happened to it? There's this really small cut on it, it doesn't look like a big deal, but there's a lot of blood coming from that cut and it all dried on his hand, making it look like he got attacked by a bear or something. I'm almost tempted to go out there, but I don't think he would be happy that I interrupted his whatever. Oh crap, he's looking this way. I duck down before he can see me; I'm going over to Stan's house in about five minutes and I'll probably end up seeing him outside. I really don't feel like explaining why I was spying on him.

I guess I should leave about now. I was late to Stan's the other day and he got kind of mad. I know he has a bit of a temper but really…was it worth it? I don't think so, but whatever. I'm not going to be late again. I can see Eric heading back to his house, and I just called out his name…wait, what? What did I do that for? Great, he's turning around. "What happened to your hand?" _Fuck._ I can't believe I just said that! Can I see it from here? Luckily, I can. "What do you mean, Kyle?" He's hidden his hand in his pocket. "Don't lie to me, Cartman, I saw your hand! What happened?" He looks a little ashamed. Maybe he came out second-best in a fight with his history homework or something like that, I've seen paper cuts cause that much blood before. "Curiosity killed the cat, Kyle." "I'm not a cat!" "It's really none of your business, Kyle." He had a point, but now I'm just arguing for the sake of arguing. "I don't care, asshole. Tell me what you did!" Uh oh, did he do that himself on purpose? He's shaking and looking positively frightened. "What…I…did? Try society, Kyle! Try the world! But don't ever accuse me." I feel so bad…he's walking away now. "Cartman, wait!" He stops and half turns around. "What?" "I'm going over to Stan's now…do…do you want to come?" I think Stan's going to be mad that I invited Cartman, but it's the least I can do. He's going through some emotional problems right now, I think. Or maybe he's just being Cartman. I really can't tell.

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**Cartman's POV**

It's amazing how small South Park is. It only took about five minutes for me to walk to Kyle's house, and it'll only take about two to get to Stan's house from here. I think Kyle regrets inviting me, as I regret admitting it was my fault I had a cut up hand. At least he doesn't know the whole story. We're walking along in silence, and I hear him sigh and see him look up at the clouds. I wish I could say something, but I can't. I can see Stan's house, though, so I won't have to suffer through much more of this. I can see Stan now, too. He's standing on his porch, probably waiting for Kyle. He looks at us and waves. I raise my hand up as well, but only get half-way before I put it back down. He's waving to his best friend, not me. We might be friends, but Kyle still ranks above me. He's glaring at me now. I bet he's a bit upset I'm here. "Hey, fatass! You walk over here and then don't have the decency to wave to me?" Oh! I'm pleasantly surprised by this turn of events. "Um…sorry." There's not much I can really say. Kyle looks surprised too, but pleasant wouldn't be the word I would use to describe it. "You're…happy…that I invited him?" Stan frowns. There is no good answer to this. If he says yes, he disappoints Kyle. If he says no, he disappoints me. So he goes for option three: changing the subject. "Come on in! There's an old Terrance and Philip marathon on TV right now, want to watch it?" We both nod our heads yes and follow him inside. Kyle looks a bit sullen. He gets over it fairly fast though, mostly because when we walk in Kenny is sitting on the couch. "You bastard!" Kyle yells in true fashion, mock punching Stan. "Sure, you make me feel like crap for bringing Eric over and you have Kenny over here?" "Dude, I didn't intentionally make you feel like crap…wait – Eric?" Kyle's blushing now. "Um, I meant Cartman." I can see Stan raise his eyebrow, but he says nothing. Kenny's just been watching the whole thing, trying not to laugh. Our eyes meet, and we smile at each other. Kenny and I have been there for each other through some tough times, and he's one of my best friends. I'm not sure if he considers me to be one of his best friends, but I hope he does.

It's kind of nice, that it's just the four of us. It kind of reminds me of the old days – the days before I had so much to worry about. Butters is almost always with us now, at least when he isn't grounded. I'm not sure why he isn't here right now – probably because he didn't know I would be here. I'm trying to focus on the TV, but I just can't. My eyes keep on drifting over to Kyle – certainly not something I want everyone else in the room to notice, but they're all paying attention to the show, unlike me, so they probably won't. He's wearing his hat again, sadly. His hair is just adorable, he finally persuaded his mom to let him cut it a bit and now it curls reasonably, falling into his eyes sometimes if he shakes his head. He's laughing now, as are the rest of them, and I laugh too. I have no idea what's going on, but I don't want to appear weird. He leans back against the couch and folds his arms behind his head, he looks really relaxed and content. I wish he would look that way more often when I see him. He's always on his guard around me. He's turning around now, and I freeze as his emerald eyes seek my brown ones out. He's smiling at me. "Lighten up and watch the show, Cartman. You only live once."

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**Author's Note: **Okay, so I'm not exactly happy with this chapter. I'm not sure I can _ever_ see Cartman turning to self-harm or witchcraft, no matter how messed up he is. But it's necessary for what I want to do with this story later…I've tried writing it without it and it just doesn't work. Hope I didn't scare too many readers away with this one…


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Wanting to own something and actually owning it are two different things.

**Author's Note: **No reviews last time…I feel so unloved! Is it really that bad?

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**Cartman's POV**

_You only live once._ That's what Kyle told me, this afternoon…er, yesterday afternoon? I hate early morning hours, times confuse me. But back to what he said…I don't get it. I mean, I get the saying, I just don't get how it fits into that. So, what, I'm gonna regret not watching an episode of Terrance and Philip for the rest of my life? I don't think so. Or, maybe he just said it to confuse me. That would make a lot of sense! I don't think I have a right to say that at the moment, though. It's past midnight and I am laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. _Lame._ Nothing is supposed to make sense at midnight except for falling asleep. Maybe that's what I should do now. Fall asleep, and then everything will be clear in the morning.

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**Kyle's POV**

I had a nice day today…or yesterday, I guess it is now. I love being able to hang out with everyone, just like in the old days. It was kind of creepy to catch Cartman looking at me like that, though. Not that I would ever give him the satisfaction of knowing he's successfully freaked me out. I'm at Stan's house right now; I didn't feel like going home so I just decided to stay here. I doubt my parents will even notice. He's got this way of looking at me lately, it reeks of _I know something you don't know. _Whether or not that's true, I'm not sure. But I'll find out eventually, I always do. And now it's nine in the morning and I have officially been up for 24 hours. There's something about still being awake at five in the morning that makes it impossible to sleep at all…I think it's the light. If it's light outside, I just can't sleep, and especially not if it shines through the window even one little bit.

I think Stan's waking up, at any rate he sounds like he's getting out of bed soon. "Good morning," I say to him, smiling as I see a frown cross his face. "What's so good about it?" "We're not dead." Stan looks at me, glaring. "Goddamnit, Kyle, you jinxed it! One of us will be dead within the hour…it had better be you." I laugh softly, but say nothing. According to his own rules, now he'll be the one that dies. I'm not sure if he realizes that, though, and I'm not about to tell him. I'll hold it in reserve for later. I know I have to go home soon, and I'm a little annoyed about that. I just want to stay here and hang out with Stan all day. But I promised Ike I would stay with him while our parents were out at some rally thing. He really hates being alone, I'm not really sure why. Just for today, I want him to deal with being alone. But he's my little brother, and I know that no matter how much I want him to "just deal with it" I'm going to help him because I care about him. I sigh. Might as well go play one more video game with Stan before I have to leave.

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**Cartman's POV**

Man, just my luck. When I finally fall asleep, I do it with my neck twisted at a weird angle. _Weak._ Now I'm gonna have a sore neck all day. "All day, do you hear me!?" That door was in my way, I had every right to yell at it. I just need to vent my frustration at someone. It's not actually that my neck is bothering me that much. It's more that I'm still kind of pissed about yesterday, and now I just have an excuse to act mad about it. _Ugh._ Even thinking about thinking about it makes me cringe. I am almost positive that Kyle saw me do the ritual thing yesterday. See, I thought everything would become clear in the morning, but it didn't. It became clear maybe an hour before I woke up, when I was dreaming. Actually, I hope it was just a dream. But it was so…vivid. I pause, lost in a flashback of my dream:

_A boy stands on a hill holding a burning sheet of paper. He glances down at his other hand, and shudders…even the sight of it must pain him. He grabs hold of something with that hand, it doesn't look like it's hurting him as much anymore. He lifts his eyes to study the house that's in front of him, and his determined expression changes to one of terror as he spies something. The boy looking out the window draws back. He wasn't supposed to be caught…_

I hate dreams. I hate that I never see it out my own eyes, I hate feeling like a disembodied spirit. I could feel all the emotions my dream self felt, I could feel myself hold that paper and I could feel the sear of pain as I became aware of my hand. But I wasn't myself, I was watching myself watch…him. Kyle. The boy who, in my dream, saw it all. But something tells me that wasn't just a dream. Part of me feels as if it was real…part of me wants to know if it was.

A few minutes later, I find myself standing on Kyle's doorstep. For once, I haven't planned out everything I'm going to say. I really should have, because I think I'm going to regret it…my instinct is usually right. "Cartman?" Kyle just asked me as he opened the door, this disbelieving look appearing on his face. "Who else? Let me in," I say, pushing past him. I think he just realized he never closed his mouth, because he's shutting it now and looking pretty sheepish. "Um…uh…do you want something to drink?" he finally asks. He's just remembered his manners, or he just doesn't want to be a lousy host. Either way, I decline. I'm not staying too long. "Hi, Ike!" If I was going to have a brother, I would want one like Ike. He's pretty loyal. Not that I would ever say that to him or Kyle, but they can't read my mind. Ike looks surprised. I guess because I'm normally telling him he pollutes the air with Canada. "Hey, um, I need to talk to Kyle alone so um…scram?" Yeah, that last word doesn't fit the sentence. But he gives me a look, half of which I know to be him understanding why I was being nice to him, and half saying he's afraid Kyle is going to get raped, or something. That's a very tempting idea, but I don't fancy testing it out with witnesses.

"What do you want, fat-ass?" Inwardly I wince, noticing that the good-natured brat has gone upstairs. On the outside, I show nothing. "Now, now, Kyle," I chide him. "That's no way to treat a guest. I didn't have to come over here, you know." "Yeah, and you did anyway when you weren't welcome, so either tell me what you want or get out." Ouch. Someone has sand in his vagina today. "Yes, well, Kyle, would you care to tell me how you noticed…this?" I whip out my hand and shove it in his face. Oh, what a gruesome sight. I didn't wash the blood off it this morning on purpose. "I told you, oh tub of lard, that I just happened to catch sight of it and wondered what happened." "Your concern is touching, Kyle. When did you happen to catch sight of it? Could it be…when I was standing behind your house?" His face just blanched, I think my guess was right. "You were…you were…behind my house?" His voice is all wheezy, obviously he's faking. He knew I was there. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I just say that? How careless of me." But it's not careless, and it's all I can do to keep from laughing. "…what were you doing?" he asks finally. He must have decided to forfeit round one. "Nothing, Kyle. It was my routine procedure for remembering homework. You see, if I have no notes lying around I'm forced to have everything memorized, so I watch as my notes go up in flames as I commit them to memory." I like that excuse, and I just made it up too. This stroke of genius, however, angers him. "Get out, you fat fuck!" he screams in my face. Now really, I'm surprised at him. If he was that curious, he would keep questioning me. Guess he doesn't care. I think he's come to the conclusion that whatever I was doing, it won't affect his life. How wrong he is. I didn't realize I've just been sitting here the whole time while I was thinking that. "Well?" he glares impatiently at me. "I'm leaving, Jew," I announce, proving to him that I am still capable of insulting those who annoy me. "Goodbye, Eric," he says as he slams the door in my face.

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**Kyle's POV**

I slam the door in his face, and slump against the wall. Did I just call him "Eric" again? I've been doing that a lot lately, and I bet he's still there, staring at the door thinking "what the fuck?" But I'm not going to look, even if I want to. Ike has appeared at the top of the stairs, and he's smiling. "He was lying about studying, you know." "I know, Ike. I know." Now he's got the same expression on his face as Stan. This is seriously annoying. "Ike, do you want to tell me what you know that I don't? I bet that would save a lot of time." He's laughing now, and rattling off some stuff that he's been reading in a history book lately. According to him, the book is "funny". According to me, there is no such thing. I take school seriously because I want to have a good life, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it a lot or anything crazy like that. "Never mind, Ike. Let's just watch TV." He smiles at me, like he's just won some great victory. For all I know, he has. I just roll my eyes though, and head back to the couch. "So, what's up with you and…Eric?" he asks me slyly. I glare at him in response. "_Cartman_ is just being a retarded asshole. He came here demanding an answer that he already had and then he fed me that shit about schoolwork." "Well I knew that already. I was here, after all. Why did he ask how you noticed his hand? And actually, what's up with his hand? I didn't see it, obviously." "He cut his hand – himself, I think, judging by the way he was acting. I noticed it yesterday and somehow he figured out I had been spying on him…completely unintentional of course, don't look at me like that Ike!" Ike is just grinning now, he looks like he's trying to hold in laughter. "Fine…I give up." And now we're watching TV yet again, although I still get the feeling I've completely missed something.

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**Cartman's POV**

I like when he calls me "Eric". It makes me feel as if he knows the real me, instead of just the person I show to the world. But I know he doesn't, really. Butters is the only one who even has an idea of who I am. I know that it was just a slip of the tongue, although one I wish would happen more often. I wish I could learn to show more emotion when talking to Kyle. I used to, when I was younger, only it was anger, all anger. Then it mellowed out into annoyance, which I suppose he was okay with. And then, I gave up all my emotions. Maybe I just haven't learned how to show emotions, again. I feel as if I can speak so freely when I'm around him, yet I can't bring myself to do it. _I'm crying out with my mind, Kyle, can't you hear me? Can't you set me free? _Of course he can, he just won't. I'm still standing in front of his house, leaning against the side of it. I can hear him arguing with his brother, but I can't make out what they're saying. I bet Ike knows all my secrets, just by seeing me for those few seconds. He's incredibly smart, sometimes annoyingly so. I really hope he doesn't tell Kyle. On second thought, maybe it would be better if he did. That way I would know for sure whether it was any good to hope or not. Butters says that hope keeps you alive. He says that if you don't have a single hope in the world, then you're as good as dead. He wouldn't let me lose my hope, and I don't want to let him down so I won't now either. But I honestly see no point to hoping. It could break your heart and bring you lower than anyone thought possible, but at times it can make you feel amazing, like nothing will ever go wrong again. Both feelings are so misleading.

Speaking of Butters, here he comes. He's running pretty fast, hm. It's not too unusual for him, actually. "Butters." I finally pull myself away from the side of the house. "What's wrong?" If it was anyone else, I probably wouldn't bother asking, but Butters would have cared if it was me. "Well, I don't know actually." Okay, that deserves an odd look. "You…don't know?" "That's right…just got scared by something, I guess." I sigh. This is so classic Butters. "Hey, isn't this Kyle's house?" Butters finally looks up and notices that he didn't reach my part of the neighborhood yet. Butters knows about my slight – okay, not so slight – obsession with Kyle. "What happened?" he directs to me. I sigh. "Oh, nothing. I just messed everything up again, like always, and I think his brother knows." Butters frowns a bit, and reaches out to give me a hug. I hug him back, smiling because no matter what happens at least I have a friend. "It's okay, Eric, it doesn't matter who finds out. Just, whatever happens, don't give up hope." There's the Butters I know. "I won't Butters…I won't."

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**Author's Note: **This was pretty much a space filler chapter, so sorry. It'll get better, I promise. My thoughts have just been kind of scattered with the realization I need to volunteer for 60 hours total in the next two weeks…maybe updates will be slower because of that. Not really sure yet. Review this time, please?


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **South Park is not mine. The geeky math poem is, though.

**Author's Note:** Cartman's poetic mind is mine, I tell you, mine! Haha. This is almost my favorite chapter so far…it's extremely important to the story. So pay attention!

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**Cartman's POV**

School today was one of the most embarrassing days of my life. I think God hates me. Today in math, I was just spacing out like normal when I heard my name, and saw Kyle staring at me. Well I was pretty confused but decided to pretend I knew what was going on, and next thing I know Kyle is sitting next to me asking if he should come over to my house or if I want to go over to his! Well I finally figured out that we've been assigned as partners in some lame project, but I really made myself look stupid before I figured that out. If there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it's looking stupid. After he asked who's house we would go to, I just looked at him blankly and said "You…want me to come over to your house?" and then he looked at me oddly and said "Well…if you want…". And I still hadn't figured it out and I said "Oh, Kyle! That…that means so much…" and I was starting to reach for his hand when he gave me another weird look and said "Um…okay…so do you have any ideas about the project?" and then I withdrew my hand. I bet I looked like a retard because I had to say that I had no idea and hope he would get around to explaining something about it. He finally did, but…the damage was already done.

Now I'm sitting over at my house with him. I wasn't going over to his house because I was too embarrassed still. I haven't been paying attention to what he's been saying, and he looks like he's getting annoyed by it. "Cartman, are you even paying attention?" I choose not to answer him, knowing that with a question like that, no answer is an answer. "Do you want to do this project by yourself?" That makes me snap back to attention. I can't afford another bad grade in math, and I need Kyle, especially since he paid attention when the project was being assigned. I shake my head slowly and stare at him. "Snap out of it, fat-ass." He snapped me out of it before! What is he talking about? "I said, snap out of it! Stop looking at me like you have some evil scheme going on." Oh crap, I'm still staring at him. I divert my eyes away from him…why did our stupid bitch teacher put us together? Why? Out of all the people in the room, we have to be put together, and I bet he hates it as much as me. I hate it because I can barely think straight around him, and he hates it because now he's forced to spend time alone with the person he hates most. I want to cry at my last thought, but I can't right now. The last thing I need is for Kyle to see me crying…he would think I'm a fag. Unfortunately, he would be right.

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**Kyle's POV**

Cartman sure is acting strange today. First in class he keeps on saying the weirdest things, probably trying to draw attention away from his lack of knowledge about the subject. Now he keeps staring off into space and he looks almost sad. Or at least, I would believe he was sad if I believed he was capable of human emotions, which I don't. Our report is very simple, it's explaining PEMDAS and coming up with different versions of it and different things it could stand for. We have to research the history, write a paper, and make a PowerPoint or a poster explaining it. I glance down at Cartman's paper, I wonder if he wrote anything on it. I can see his name scrawled in the corner. _Eric Theodore Cartman._ Does he always include his middle name on school papers? Then again, if I had handwriting like his I would write as much as I possibly could, even to the point of writing an unnecessary middle name. When did he perfect that script? It just spoke to me from the page…like poetry…I wonder if he writes poetry. I don't even notice that now, I'm the one daydreaming, and Eric is watching me with careful precision. "Kyle?" he asks softly, and I look up. Oops, I'm kind of laying on his paper. "Sorry, Eric." I give him his poem back, but he's still looking at me. "What?" I ask a bit irritably. I'm not irritable; I just want him to think I am. "What were you doing?" He's looking away from me and frowning. I open my mouth to answer him, but I just got drowned out by my own voice. "Do you write poetry?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. The change in him is unbelievable. He's turning towards me now, his eyes shining with a fire I've only seen when he's giving his Hitler idolization speeches. "Do you want to see it?" He seems very eager, for some reason. He doesn't even wait for an answer, he just walks out of the room and looks over his shoulder to make sure I'm following him.

When he finally stops, I notice we're in the basement. This place looks a lot different than I remember it. It used to be really nice looking, like a combination office/room/daycare kind of place. I think he spends a lot of time down here. It looks almost like a dungeon, only without all the torture devices. There's a black desk in front of me, and there are knives spread across it. As if that wasn't scary enough there's a piece of paper with blood sitting on it there. I shudder, and look away. That's downright creepy. Wait, where's Eric? Oh, there he is…over by the locking file cabinet. He's holding something in his hand, and motions for me to sit on the stairs. He hands me the poem so I can read it. It's a nice poem. On the surface, it's about snow falling towards the Earth. On the inside, it's a little story about life and death. It shows how each snowflake is a person – we are all different, just as the snowflakes. When they hit the Earth, it signals the end of our life. I love it. It's written in his handwriting, it looks beautiful. I'm handing it back to him now, but I don't know what to say. I'm speechless. "Do you like it, Kyle?" I look at him, but I can't say anything or do anything. I just can't. It's like the poem has frozen me. When I don't respond, Eric seems to notice we're in the basement. Uh oh. The nice guy who writes poetry is gone, and in his place is the evil Cartman.

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**Cartman's POV**

What was I thinking, leading Kyle into the basement? All the things he could have seen…oh God! What did I leave down there? I feel for the chain around my neck from force of habit. I know it's there, though. I never take it off. "Eric?" I hear his voice from behind me, but I don't dare turn. I can hear him following me, which means he most likely hasn't stopped to look behind him. "Yes?" I try to sound pissed off, but I don't think I succeeded. "I…like the poem." It's nice to hear him admit it, even though I was watching his reaction when he read it. I could tell he really understood my words, unlike some people who can't see the true meaning. That's why I don't show my poems to people anymore. They would never understand. But Kyle's not just like everyone else…he's different. I had to show him that one, I just had to. It's the one I'm most proud of, I worked so hard on it and it came out a lot better than I expected. And him liking it…I can't even begin to describe how happy I am. "Come on, let's go back upstairs and work on the project." I can almost feel the surprise at those words. So I don't normally care about homework…so what? I don't want to be the reason Kyle fails, even though I don't really care what grade we get on it.

Back up in my room, I'm still worried about what I left sitting around in the basement but I'll just check it out later. Now I have to worry about sitting in the uncomfortable atmosphere and force myself through a painful conversation. "So, what can you think up for PEMDAS?" Kyle finally asks me. "Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally." He sighs, he knows that's the one we use in school and he knows I know it, too. "Eric, if this wasn't for school, would you be putting more effort into it?" "Yes," I answer honestly. If it was just for fun, I bet I could think up a million things for PEMDAS. Like, Purple Eggplants Make Delicious Afternoon Snacks. Okay, I don't like that one, eggplant is disgusting. But it's kind of funny. Or, Pink Elephants Make Dandy Apple Sauce. Now that one is the funniest, I think. Wait! I know how to not let Kyle down on this project. I only wish I could tell him about it. "I'm going down to the basement," I announce, getting up and walking downstairs. I'm at the basement now, and I lock the door because I don't want him following me. Ugh. A poem about math. This is horrible. Oh, and here's what's worse, blood on paper right in front of where Kyle would have been standing. I hope he doesn't suspect anything.

_PEMDAS_

_Parenthesis are found in much abundance  
__All along our number line  
__Attack them first and bring them down  
__Now our equation is refined._

_Exponents shall be found there next  
__Strike them down and solve them  
__They were never second best  
__That is why they must be condemned._

_Multiplication happens now  
__Doubling the number  
__Think of it like pollination,  
__Now there are more flowers._

_Division could be next, although  
__It could also have been first  
__Because of multiplication it was pushed back  
__And into dreadful woe._

_Addition is next on the list  
__And though it's not a trick,  
__Something coming next, I fear  
__Could give it a fateful twist._

_Subtraction is the last to shine  
__Screaming the ending loud,  
__For now the story had been told  
__The answer is allowed._

That actually didn't take as long as I thought, it's only been fifteen minutes or so. It's certainly not the best poem ever written, but it should be okay for school. After all, a little dramatic music and the right outfit would make for a great presentation…right?

I can see Kyle standing near the door, why did he leave the room? "I have to go." He frowns, holding up his cell phone in explaination. I guess his mom called and has dinner ready or something. "Well, here." I'm handing over the poem, he can read it when he gets home. He looks confused but tucks it in his pocket. He better not forget about it. "Bye, Kyle. See you in school tomorrow." I'm going back down to the basement now that he's leaving, but I hear a soft "Bye, Eric," coming from behind me.

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**Kyle's POV**

Why, oh why, did I have to look at his paper? Now I feel like he's let me in on some secret, which he probably has…and now I can see the person Eric, not just the asshole that is Cartman. Cartman is odd, standoffish, and rude. Eric is a little spacey, and a bit of a dreamer. Eric knows right from wrong and is happy about something other than destruction. Cartman's dream is to kill everyone in the world. But to my mind…it's like Cartman has been erased. He'll always be Eric, now. Even when he is mean, I'll still be able to see the person behind the mask. I'm not sure he would like it that I can see the real him…why did he show me that poem anyway? And bring me down to his basement? It seemed a little…personal. Maybe he was happy that finally someone had asked him about probably the one thing he can be proud of. Why did I ask if he wrote poetry, anyway? Where did that come from? Wait, I know where that came from…he has beautiful handwriting, and I thought it would be nice for writing poetry. I wish he would write poetry for me, I would frame it and hang it on my wall and read it all the time…oh, crap. I think I'm in love with Eric Cartman.

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**Author's Note: **See, it was important! That's why I love this chapter…I have been waiting for the right time to put that last line in there and it finally came! Yay!


	6. Author's Note

**If you're not interested in reading the extended apology and explanation (which is the same for all of my stories that aren't completed), then skip on down to the end where I tell you about the updates on this specific story.**

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I owe everyone on here an apology, whether you like or hate my stories, whether you have read them a million times or not at all, if you've been waiting for the update or didn't care when I got back to it. But mostly, this apology is for the people who love my stories, and wanted me to get back to writing. Because I feel bad for leaving you hanging for almost an entire year. I feel terrible for making you all think I had abandoned my stories and was never coming back. And I feel even worse because I can't promise that this won't happen again.

It started during the summer. I went on vacation, and didn't have an internet connection for the month I was there. Obviously, I couldn't update then.

It continued when I got back and started my sophomore year of college. I needed good grades this semester. So I ignored my stories, and studied instead.

I won't even bother trying to hide that I've been having trouble with writing since I've gotten a boyfriend. He wants to be a writer, and somehow I feel like I'm stealing his career from him. I don't want to be a writer; I want to be a mathematician.

Then came winter break. I was grounded for all of winter break, and didn't have a computer. When I got it back, I wanted to start writing again. I really did.

Only I didn't realize I would be using that time to learn how to drive, and go to driving school to get both my behind-the-wheel hours and classroom hours. So once again, this was postponed.

Halfway through the course, I came down with strep. I'll admit that I'm almost never sick, and this was only the second time in my life that I've ever been on antibiotics.

On the eighth day of my antibiotics, I discovered that I was extremely allergic to them, and spent several hours in the emergency room for the next three days until I could manage the reaction on my own. It still took two weeks to fade.

Only now that all my issues cleared up, my parents went on antibiotics, and I was required to help them with everything because they were too sick to do it themselves.

And even now as I'm writing this up, my dad is in the hospital with some as yet unknown disease. I don't know when he's coming home, I don't know if he even will come home, and it's tearing me apart because my dad is practically my best friend.

So I apologize that I'm being so slow with the updates. I'll admit that from summer to the winter break I could have been updating, but I was too lazy to do it. If I had known all this would happen, I would have updated. But I didn't know, and now I'm trying to make up for lost time.

Thanks for listening and hopefully understanding. Continue on for the story update.

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**Hidden Meanings: **You know your story is good when you're searching on FanFiction, find it, read it, and try to add it to your favorites list. You also know that if you don't recognize your own story, you've been away from the computer way too long. I like this story, and I want to continue it. Lucky for you, I have most of the next chapter written already. I just have to find time to finish it. Perhaps sometime next week? Remember, updates will be very slow from now on, and I wouldn't expect too much until the summer.


	7. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **If I owned South Park, you wouldn't be reading this.

**Author's Note: **Sorry about how long this took – but of course, you can read all about that in the very important Author's Note. Anyway, I've made a ton of Kyle/Cartman videos for Youtube (and some of them got deleted, unfortunately), so check those out if you like. The link is on my profile. And please, review this!

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**Cartman's POV**

Now that he's gone, I can finally allow myself to breathe easily, the first I've been able to in the whole three hours he was over at my house. Lack of proper oxygen must have made my brain cells die, I still can't believe I took him into the basement and showed him my best poem. Well, the best poem about my life anyway. When I'm writing about him, my poems are a lot better. Luckily I didn't find one of those first. I wonder if he's read my poem yet. I should call him…wait, what am I thinking? No I shouldn't! I just want to. But, I always get what I want, so I probably will call him…later, though. I wish I had his cell phone number, I don't want to call his house. I hate it when my friend's parents answer the phone and then want to talk for hours about how my life is…why do they care? They're not my parents!

"Time for dinner, honey!" Mom calls down the stairs. Oh, boy. Another chance for me to gain a few pounds and be laughed at. Don't get me wrong, I love to eat and then not exercise…I just hate what comes with it. I know I could change it, if I really tried, but I haven't and probably never will. What's the point? What am I working towards? It's not as if Kyle ever expressed an interest in skinny guys…or guys at all, for that matter. But I bet I could lose the weight if he had. "Honey..! Dinner..!" I sigh, push the chair back, and head upstairs. I'm not really doing anything terribly important down here anyway…it's probably unhealthy to be locked in a room with your thoughts for an extended periods of time. I'll call Kyle after dinner.

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**Kyle's POV**

I'm sitting in my room, in the dark, thinking about what I just discovered. That I, Kyle Broflovski, am in love with one heartless soul named Eric Cartman. Mind you, he doesn't seem so heartless anymore…I just know that at one point, he was. I'm still rather in shock. I don't particularly like him, so I really can't explain why I suddenly love him. Sure, they always say opposites attract, but do they really mean even to that extreme..? I can hear the doorbell ring, I don't feel like answering it. Maybe Mom or Ike will go get it. Nope, there it is again. Goddamnit. Do I always have to do everything myself around here?

Well speak of the devil…it's Eric. "Your phone is out," he tells me by way of greeting, and then he proceeds to push past me and head up to my room. I have no idea what he's doing here. Although, from his comment I'm guessing he meant to call me first instead of just showing up unexpectedly. "Are you sure the phone's out?" I'm following him now. "Yeah, it never stopped ringing." I frown and pick up the phone. Ike's voice comes floating to me. "…and then Filmore asked her out! I don't know which…" I put down the phone. "My phone's not out, Eric, Ike's just talking on it." He manages to look slightly embarrassed, but not much. "Oh." He looks like he's about to say something else, so I think I'll just wait for him to say it. "Did you read the poem I gave you?" I frown…what poem? Then I remember he did give me a poem before I left. He sighs. "I'll take that as a 'no'." I smile apologetically – or at least I try to. He gives me an odd look so I don't think I look all that sorry.

The poem is nothing short of amazing. Not that it really has great imagery or anything, but I think it's just because of the subject matter. He still has a way with words that no one I know could compare to, ever. I finish reading it and smile at him. "That's pretty good, are you going to read it to the class?" He shrugged in response, still watching me carefully. I have to turn away, he's making me too nervous. "So is that all you came over here for?" "I suppose so." He's not making any move to leave at all, though. Part of me wants him to leave, and part of me wants him to stay. I think the part that wants him to stay is winning. After all, he looks pretty cute sitting there…oh god, no, I did not just think that! I thought I only liked him because of his writing…I can't believe I'm only maybe an hour or two into this realization and it's already getting worse than I want it to! "What's wrong?" his voice is harsh, but his eyes show concern. "Oh…nothing." I lower my eyes to the ground. Well, it's not exactly a lie! Nothing's wrong…just nothing's right, either. I'm in love with my worst enemy, that can't be right. "I guess I should go now," Eric says, and I nod. He walks out the door without so much as a goodbye.

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**Cartman's POV**

I can't believe I walked over to his house for nothing. Well, almost nothing. The cold wind is biting into me and making me shiver, but surprisingly enough I'm not that cold right now. I was watching him while he was reading the poem, and I can tell he liked it a lot more than he told me. In fact, I would even say he loved it. That in itself made the whole trip worth it. Glancing down at my scars, I smile. I won't be needing to make another one tonight. I can finally feel halfway normal. Normal people do not sit in the darkness and bring themselves the pain of life. Normal people kneel down, say their prayers, and get into bed.

I laugh at that. If that's the case, I will never be normal. One might think that the way I used to criticize Kyle would mean I really loved my religion. And I suppose back then, I did. But what do I see in it now? God never seems to help people out, if he even exists. He never heard my tortured cries at night, he never saw fit to give me a good life. I'm guess I'm pretty much one of those Pagans people here are always complaining about. I'm probably not even following the religion right. But I'm following it as best I can, in a whole town of Catholics…and one Jewish family. I don't think many people would accept it, but who cares? I've never cared what anyone thought before, so why start now?

I've been so lost in thought I didn't even realize I walked past my house. Oops. I head back to the door, and Butters opens it for me. "H-hi, Eric!" "…Butters, what are you doing in my house?" "Well, I came to spend the night but your mom said you left! So I was waiting for you to come back." I smile. Butters can be so predictable, sometimes. I remember when I used to invite him over so I could make fun of him. When he started being really nice to me and helping me through my depression, I started to feel something I had never felt before – guilt. So I showed him the photo album and apologized, and even though he was mad he eventually forgave me. Then we burned the album together. Sometimes I wonder if I'm going to regret doing that later – what if I need blackmail? But I don't think I'll be needing it anymore. "Hey, uh, E-Eric?" I never responded to what he said, I guess. But when I look around, I'm in my room already…guess I didn't notice I was walking up there. "Yeah?" "My parents wouldn't let me bring my sleeping bag, can we both sleep in your bed?" I sigh. I'm too afraid I might roll onto him and crush him while I'm sleeping. "How about we both camp out on the floor? I'll drag my pillows and blankets off the bed for us, and take some extras from the closet." He shoots me an understanding look, and nods sympathetically. "I'll help, then."

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**Kyle's POV**

Sometimes when you think things are bad, they really aren't. Because something worse can always happen. And I suppose the same rule applies here. Because I know that something worse could happen. But it certainly doesn't feel like it. If only I had avoided reading the poem, I'm positive that I wouldn't be in this fix. I would be sitting here, planning out how to suffer through this project. Not laying down in the dark, wondering why I've fallen in love with someone I hate.

It's amazing how quiet it seems at night. You can be left alone with your thoughts for seconds…minutes…hours. Time never passes the way you expect it to in the dark. I wish I could go over to the computer, but I would be too tempted to look up ways to flirt with guys, or take a dumb quiz about if you and your crush are meant to be. Stupid pastimes, that only girls would be interested in. Still, the thought is tempting, and there's still enough hours left before daylight that I could spend some time surfing the net. Maybe I could look up reasons why you fall in love with people. Or I could look up what kind of annoying magic is in that poetry, and figure out if it's temporary or permanent.

Suddenly I sit up in shock. Magic! Was there magic in that poem? Is that why I've fallen for him? But then I start to laugh. Eric Cartman, into witchcraft? Get real. Besides, I don't even believe in magic…do I? And those are my last thoughts before I drop off to sleep, not knowing that in the morning my sleeping mind will have made things a whole lot clearer.

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**Author's Note: **Could you guys do me a favor? Tell me how different my writing style is in these last three paragraphs (the last "Kyle's POV" in this chapter). I wrote everything else 6 months ago, and I just wrote that now. I want to know what I need to change before writing again. Thanks so much!


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